No one said anything more to me. Angie went out and came back with coffee and hard cakes, and the three of them sat on the two couches by the fireplace, drinking the coffee and eating the cakes in silence. I wasn’t offered anything and I wasn’t spoken to. After a while I went to an overstuffed chair across the room and sat down. Vito made more calls, and a couple of times big men knocked and looked in and would start to say something in English, but when they saw me they would switch to Italian. Angie went out twice and Vito went out once, but Sal didn’t go out at all. He sat and stared, and I was glad he wasn’t staring at me.

We sat like that in Sal DeLuca’s den for almost six hours.

At ten minutes before five the next morning, Freddie came in with Charlie and Ric. Charlie’s hair was mussed and his collar was open and he looked anxious, like maybe he had been looking for someone and he hadn’t been able to find them. Ric still looked like a vampire, all hard bones and white, leathery flesh. Charlie was saying something about why the hell this couldn’t wait until morning when he saw me and you could see the fear jolt through him like a galvanic shock. He scrabbled under his coat for his gun, but Vito slapped the gun out of his hand.

Sal said, “Freddie, close the door.”

Charlie said, “That’s the sonofabitch killed Carmine and Dante.” Trying to cover, doing a lot of arm waving and loud talking, as if the loud talk might convince Sal and Vito and Angie that whatever I’d said was lies. “He’s trying to force us outta the bank. Jesus Christ, what’s he doing here?”

Sal’s left hand snapped out and caught Charlie beneath the right eye. It was a hard shot and it caught Charlie by surprise. He yelled, “Hey!”

“Shut up and listen to this.”

Charlie shut up. Ric settled back against the bookcases and watched, choreographing the dance in his head, seeing himself move fast and perfect.

Sal looked at me again for the first time since he had sent Freddie away to find Charlie and said, “Tell him.”

I went through it for Charlie just like I had for Sal. The more I said, the more Charlie fidgeted, moving from foot to foot and picking at his hands and visibly sweating. The more Charlie moved, the more Sal didn’t move. When I finished, Charlie said, “This is bullshit. This is merda. Whattaya listening to this guy for?” He looked at Angie. He looked at Vito. “Uncle Vito. Hey, Angie. Who’s family here?” He looked back at his father. “Whattaya listening to this guy for?”